


Time's Just Holding Me Down

by sikecarton



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Tractor Racing, basically everything is the same excepts Hawkins doesn't like music/dancing, i guess, that Footloose AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sikecarton/pseuds/sikecarton
Summary: “It’s easy, just like driving a car,” said Tommy, one hand on the tractor’s yellow seat. “Simple.” (A Footloose AU.)





	Time's Just Holding Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, man. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I watched Footloose the other night and I couldn't get the idea of Steve and Billy racing tractors out of my head because it seemed like EXACTLY the kind of dumbass thing those two would do.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry to anyone who was hoping this was an update to America's Sweethearts!! The next chapter is nearly done and I plan to post it soon.

“It’s easy, just like driving a car,” said Tommy, one hand on the tractor’s yellow seat. “Simple.”

Billy stared at him. He looked at the tractor, then back at Tommy. Billy tried to picture himself going ninety down a long, flat Indiana freeway on this hunk of metal, Black Sabbath blasting from its nonexistent speakers. It was laughable. Billy did laugh, in fact. And if it sounded a little hysterical, that was between him, Tommy, and John Deere. Goddamn town.

“Look, you got your clutch, your gas, your brake.” Tommy pointed to each as he went, explained that Billy wanted to start off by shifting it into high and then shift into fourth once he got going. He also pointed out the emergency brake and said something about buckets, whatever the fuck those were, and how Billy wasn’t supposed to touch them.

Honestly, Billy just wanted to get this weird-ass game of chicken over with. He wasn’t a coward and he was gonna prove that, then maybe he’d go laud his win over Harrington and try not to think about pinning him down and kissing him hard.

Billy took a final pull off his cigarette, then threw it down and ground it out with the toe of his boot. He took another one fresh from the pack and tucked it behind his ear.

Then he stepped past Tommy and clambered up to sit in the ugly yellow seat, sticking his warm beer between his thighs. The tractor did feel a bit like a car when he sat with his hands on the wheel, but at the same time it was entirely foreign. The wheel was too low, Billy couldn’t slouch back against the seat, and of course there was no windshield. There was also a big fucking exhaust pipe that let out right next to Billy’s ear, which seemed like a goddamn manufacturing flaw if you asked him.

Harrington was straight across from him on his own tractor, a red one, and he looked so fucking smug. He had on those stupid Ray-Bans, his hair all done up, and Billy just wanted to plant one on him. A punch, a kiss, he wasn’t picky.

He’d have to settle for a fucking tractor race, apparently. For now, at least. Goddamn hicks. If any of his friends from California heard about this, he’d never live it down. But he wasn’t in California, he was in fucking Hawkins, Indiana, and he had to wipe that smirk off Harrington’s face somehow.

Well, no time like the present.

Nancy Wheeler threw her hat up in the air and Billy was off, letting out a high, wild scream to get himself in the mood, throttling the clutch and shifting it to high just like Tommy said. The tractor lurched forward. It was faster than he expected, especially given how bulky it was, though of course it had nothing on his Camaro. Harrington’s was up and running, too, though Billy noticed _he_ didn’t have a fucking exhaust pipe belching black smoke in his face.

Billy finished his beer in one long swig, then leaned forward and threw it at Harrington’s tractor. It landed inside the dusty red plow with a satisfying smash. Billy leaned back in his seat and let out another yell. “Goddamn, maybe you assholes do know how to have a little fun!”

Harrington yelled something, maybe in response, but Billy couldn’t hear him over the combined growl of their engines. Billy let out a loud _whoop_ , wishing he had another beer. He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and stood to light it, leaning his pelvis against the steering wheel so the tractor didn’t swerve—too much.

That was a little more fun, he decided. This way he had a better view of Harrington and the way that stupid grin had been wiped off his face. Plus everything was better when you made it a little more dangerous.

With a shit-eating grin, he used one hand to jerk the tractor back and forth on their little trail. More people were yelling now, but he still couldn’t make out words and he didn’t really care. He was laser-focused on Harrington.

So focused, in fact, that he’d pretty much forgotten what they were doing until Harrington dove off his seat and landed rolling on the dirt, leaving his tractor unmanned and headed straight for Billy.

It was pure adrenaline that kept Billy on his own tractor after Harrington had ditched. He stayed until the tractors were no more than a yard apart, then jumped blindly in the same direction as Harrington. That was fortunate, because a moment later he heard the tractors collide with a loud crunch of medal and a huge boom as they presumably toppled down the steep grade on the other side of the trail.

Billy rolled onto his back on the grass, his heart pounding so hard it must have been audible. Goddamn, but maybe Hawkins wasn’t all bad. Pretty bad, yeah, but at least they knew how to let loose a little.

He sat up and fished the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. Lit a fresh one and savored the rush of nicotine as he watched Harrington walk over. His dumb Ray-Bans were gone. His eyes were big and bright, his face flushed.

Billy grinned at him without his own conscious permission, and Harrington, looking a little surprised, grinned back.

He stopped in front of Billy and held out a hand. “Good show,” he said.

Billy watched him for a moment, then took his hand and yanked Harrington down to the ground. He landed on his knees, one elbow on the dirt and the other propped against Billy’s raised knee. He jerked his hand away and sat next to Billy with a swear.

“Should’ve known you weren’t done being an asshole.”

Billy let out a snort, smoke billowing from his nose like a dragon. He held the pack out to Harrington, who took one cautiously.

“It was a good show,” Billy conceded. “Maybe I underestimated you assholes.”

“Maybe you did,” Harrington agreed. “Light?”

Billy flicked his lighter but kept it close so Harrington had to lean in to light up. Harrington watched him as he did. His eyes were considering, but also…something else. Something that made Billy look away as heat curled low in his gut.

He watched as everyone else gathered round the tractors, oohing and aahing and debating whether they could pin the blame on some kids the next town over.

He looked up at a touch on his arm. He almost jerked away, but he stopped when he caught Harrington’s eye and saw he was holding out a cassette tape. More specifically, the tape that stupid fuck of a cop had taken during Billy’s first week in Hawkins.

“Just don’t play it too loud,” Harrington said. Billy took the cassette wordlessly. “I heard about it from Tommy. I’m friends with the sheriff, so I convinced him to get it from Callahan. He’s a dick.”

Billy turned the tape over in his hands to avoid looking at Harrington. “What the fuck is this town’s problem with music, anyhow?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” he said. “Most of the people on the town council are pretty religious. Some kids died a while back and everyone’s convinced it was ‘cause they were all sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.”

“Sounds like a whole lotta bullshit.”

“Pretty much.” Harrington put his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe. “Just don’t blast your music outside, or don’t get caught anyway. Hopper doesn’t really care, but some of the others do.”

Billy finished his own cigarette and flicked it onto the dirt. “Thanks,” he said, watching Harrington. He was looking over at the others, who’d finished gawking at the tractors and were breaking out a fresh round of beer.

Billy stood and started toward them. “C’mon, princess, we oughta celebrate. We cheated death today.”

He watched Harrington roll his eyes. “More like we fucked up some tractors.”

“Still sounds like a reason to party.”

Harrington grinned and got up to follow him back to the group.

“You know, you’re not so bad, Hargrove,” he said. “When you act like a human being.”

“Don’t get used to it, Harrington.”


End file.
